All Hail the Most Gleefully Batsh*t Action Movie Ever

In sure relationships, it could take months—nay, years—for one aspect to disclose his/her loopy. It takes Face/Off a shade over two minutes.

The hazy, washed-out palette, porn ‘stache on Nicolas Cage’s face, and smile on John Travolta’s informs us that we’re in flashback. We look like in Griffith Park, which strikes us as odd on condition that Cage has assembled a sniper rifle on a grassy knoll in full view of oldsters, kids, and semi-employed fashions strolling their chorkies. Cage is staring down the barrel of the aforementioned high-caliber weapon at Travolta, who’s giving his cute younger boy face-waterfalls on a carousel. In between straw-sips of some mysterious beverage (in all probability an Orangina, as a result of Nic Cage), the mustachioed baddie fires off a shot that manages to cross via Travolta’s again and into the top of his son, flinging father and little one off the not-so-merry-go-round. Cage is shocked—so shocked that he lets Travolta reside—whereas Travolta is in a state of complete agony, staring up on the sky and cursing Xenu.

Two minutes later—that’s, on the movie’s four-minute mark—we’ve jumped six years forward to the present-day. Cage, now clean-shaven and dressed as a priest, is stashing a grimy bomb at a conference middle in Downtown L.A. After finishing his activity, he approaches a teenage church choir, dancing like a maniac. His eyes meet these of a fetching, probably-underage blonde lady who, in opposition to all rhyme or purpose, seems to be into no matter Father Cage is promoting. He sidles as much as the lady, moans, licks her ear, and gropes her butt, earlier than unleashing the craziest rattling O-face you’ve ever seen.

However wait, there’s extra. Within the very subsequent scene, we’re knowledgeable that Cage is boarding a personal jet about to take off at LAX, and earlier than you’ll be able to say regardless of all my rage I’m nonetheless only a Nicolas Cage, Travolta’s FBI agent is on stated airstrip in a Humvee taking part in rooster with the airplane. However let’s again up a couple of minute or so, as a result of previous to the truck-plane standoff, Cage, decked out in a pink silk shirt with twin gold pistols, is being serviced by a stewardess onboard the jet. The stewardess, who’s dressed like a librarian (turtleneck sweater, beige go well with), apparently can’t resist La Cage’s killer pickup line: “If I had been to let you suck my tongue, would you be grateful?”

Or can she! We quickly be taught that the stewardess is definitely an undercover FBI agent, making her essentially the most conservatively-dressed honeytrap within the historical past of honeytraps.

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